


A Hunter’s Shattered Dream

by Aedyn



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Erotica, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Ghost Sex, Gothic, Group Sex, Light Dom/sub, Love Story, Multi, Other, Plot, Sex, Steampunk, Vampires, monster hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedyn/pseuds/Aedyn
Summary: The Outsider gave Ariadne a gift of power but with it it came an insatiable hunger.  Will the healing blood of Yharnam be enough?  And what will she be willing to sacrifice to get it?4/30/2019: It's been a while and life has been crazy, but I'm working on a new chapter! I hope to have it up in the next week or so.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I've developed a much stronger interest in this story than I first had. So I'm significantly reworking it and also incorporating some Dishonored. For those that have been following the story so far when it was just a Bloodborne story, I hope you'll continue to enjoy it and like some of the changes coming. Expect more combat, more monsters, more plot, but still plenty of sex!
> 
> I've removed the later chapters for now as I rework them to fit the updated storyline. Expect many more chapters very soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and kudos are welcome and help me write faster!
> 
> 11/27/18: Going back and fixing some errors in the current chapters and rewriting chapter 6. Should have 2 or 3 new chapters posted later this week!

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Linea wiped her mouth on the back of her white cotton sleeve, staining it red.  She cried out from the sharp pain of her muscles as she sheathed her single Blade of Mercy onto her back, the other one she’d been forced to leave behind. Then she gritted her teeth and dug her nails into the rough cobblestones and began pulling herself away from the lantern upon the Great Bridge. Every muscle in her body burned and the puncture wound in her right side left a red trail as she drug herself, slowly, towards a ruined old carriage on the bridge.  It wasn’t safe here out in the open; she needed to get to some semblance of cover.  Truthfully, she knew she should’ve gone back to the Dream, but she couldn’t bear to face it right now, couldn’t go back there... alone. They had cleared the bridge recently, so she knew it would be relatively safe, as safe as a place could be in Yharnam.  Finally, she had safely ensconced herself between the carriage and a pile of rubble where she was hidden from sight. Reaching into the pocket of her torn blue leather coat, she pulled out her last blood vial and jammed it into her leg.  She gritted her teeth the as the blood spread throughout her: stitching torn ligaments, knitting bone back to bone, and pulling her back from the brink of nothingness.  Closing her eyes, she completely collapsed on the cool stones and let out a deep sigh of exhaustion - too tired to cry, too close to death to care where slept.

Three hours later she awoke to the thundering of her heart in her chest and the pounding of her head.  She was alive and though pain still throbbed in parts of her body, she was no longer dying.  That meant she had to get back to work.  Rolling over onto her back with a grunt, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, and rested her back against the carriage.  Drawing her blade from the sheathe on her back she laid it across her lap.  It was still covered in blood, but it mattered little, for, if she had her way, it would be even bloodier very soon.

Producing a whetstone from a pocket inside her coat, she picked up the blade and began to run it along the length of the weapon.  Mud streaked her lightly freckled face, her black leather armor was wet and covered in the blood of the only friend she had in the world, but she paid it no mind.  Her long golden hair, normally bound with fine silver thread in tight braids down her back had come loose, and she absently brushed the bangs away, smearing more mud and blood on her face without much notice.  The movement of the stone was slow and methodical under the sharp gaze of her green eyes as she focused on the feel of it sliding across the metal.  And, she admitted to herself, moving slow was the only way to stem the trembling in her hands.  Terror gripped her in a way it had not done in three years.  What lay before her was no small task, and her weapon needed to be ready, but beyond that, the sharpening gave her something to focus her mind on, to help her push down the raw memories of why she was going back into battle, a battle she highly suspected she’d lose. But that didn’t matter as she’d lost the only thing she ever loved, and she would make Yharnam pay for it, or she would die trying.

But the memories were fresh, strong, and they fought to be seen in her mind, clawing at the edges of her consciousness.   _She_ had saved her again, as she had done many times before, only this time they didn’t both make it out.  Her remaining blade didn’t need sharpening, but she was smart enough to know she couldn’t go back in this state.  The act of sharpening was a panacea to her terror and a temper to her rage, a trick she’d been taught by the one who’d gifted her the blades, the one who’d taught her to use them.  No, this fight wasn’t over. 

“You can’t kill her,” an unnaturally calming voice said to her out of nothingness.  “The two of you together couldn’t kill her, what makes you think you can do it alone?”

“I will try,” she replied without looking up.  She knew the voice, even though it had never spoken to her directly before.  She’d heard it in her dreams – its offers, its promises.  And Ariadne had warned her of the voice and the trickery that came with it, had described it with such precision that it was impossible not to recognize it. 

“Indeed?  You appear to be missing a sword.”

She reached down to her left hip and pulled a bladeless but intricate sword with fine inlay of redwood for the grip.  “I have a lucky backup.”

His eyes widened in surprise.  “Corvo’s sword.  She gave you that?”

“She did, and so I’ll do this with her help, not yours,” she replied in an attempt to stave off any forthcoming offer. 

“You’re hasty to…”

She slammed the whetstone against the blade, creating a loud clang and looked up at the sky, overcast with heavy black clouds.  “Damn you.  Leave me be.”

“Such passion,” he replied with unmasked admiration.

Casting her eyes back to the sword, she resumed her sharpening.  “She told me your power here is weak.  Within Yharnam… you can do nothing to me, certainly nothing worse than this fucking city has already done.  Nor can you help me. So, this is just some game.  I don’t want to play it.”

“No games.  I cherished her too,” he replied, appearing in front of her suddenly.

She looked at him, a handsome young man with black eyes that locked with her green ones. 

“I want revenge too.  She took her from both of us.”

“She turned her back on you, Outsider,” Linea replied, gesturing towards him with the whetstone for emphasis.  “And she was never yours.”

“We all have to make our choices,” he replied with a shrug.  “We all change, don’t we?  Not least of all you.  You were not always Linea, a Hunter of Yharnam.  You changed much from what you were, and perhaps you would’ve changed again and turned your back on her.”

Her green eyes flashed and the tip of the blade in her hand flew up effortlessly and sliced a razor thin cut up his cheek.  “I would not.” 

His lip curled in a sardonic smile.  “Is it so hard for your mind to imagine?  Think how much your life has altered in the span of three years.  Is it so unbelievable to think you might have changed that much more?”

“To some of us,” she said and pressed the stone back to the blade, “some things are inviolable.”

“I have found that inviolable has no meaning amongst mortals,” he countered.  Then he crouched down so that he was eye-level with her, but she did not look at him. “But you did betray her already, whether you see it or not.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the blade flinched involuntarily in her hand.

“She died to save you.  If she’d gone alone, as she wanted, if you had not insisted, she might have succeeded.  She fought with one hand behind her back, because she had to make sure you were protected.  Your weakness betrayed her,” he explained simply, with no judgment in his voice.  “I’m not saying you should be shamed by it, but it is true nonetheless.  Many would say it is no shame to be loved by someone so much they’d give their life for yours.”  

“That’s not true,” she countered, though with less confidence and a tremor in her voice.  “She taught me to fight.”

“You couldn’t even keep hold of both your weapons,” he replied.  He chuckled, “a real hunter are you?  She’d held a sword since she was old enough to pick one you up.  You are a novice compared to her.  That is why she’s dead.”

She continued to sharpen the already razor-sharp blade.

He pressed his finger to the cut on his cheek and then pulled his hand back to stare at the blood on his fingertips.  “Doesn’t matter now.  But, back to the point, her lack of appreciation for me doesn’t mean I don’t mourn her passing.  You can go back to that foul place, fight valiantly and die, or you can let me help you.  You can have what you most want now.”

“You can’t give me what I most want,” she replied and tossed the blade and whetstone on the ground between them.  She buried her face in her hands.  “I was alone for so long.  Now… there I am again.”

“Loneliness, now that is something I do know about.”

She lifted her head.

“You’re right, I can bring no harm to you, even if I wished to, though I certainly have no desire or reason to do so.  Neither can I gift you here.”  He glanced at the ominous sky.  “The malevolence of this place is a strain even upon me.”  He held up his hand and a glowing bluish mist swirled around his slender fingers, giving off slight musical notes each time it touched his skin.

Linea’s eyes widened at the sound, and she stared at his hand.  The light was one of the most beautiful things she’d even seen, and that was because she’d seen it before in  _her_  eyes.

“I can’t bestow a new gift on you, but her power, it still lingers.  It was a part of her, and I can pass it to you,” he said with a sympathetic smile.  “You can have a part of her inside you forever.  She can burn away the weakness in you, and the two of you can kill her together.  But I have to know that you are worthy of it.  Worthy of her.”

Leaning forward, she reached out a tentative hand towards the swirling mist.  The Outsider did not pull away and as her fingers got closer the mist slithered through the air as if drawn to her and moved between her fingers.  Tears began to roll down her cheeks.  “I can feel her.”

He nodded encouragingly.  “I haven’t seen her in such a long time.  Sad, that she should end up like her mother and grandmother – yet another in a line of fallen queens.  Sad, that she’ll never understand why I gave her the gift that I did.  So, there’s nothing for it but this:  tell me, Linea, how died Ariadne Kaldwin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments welcome. Love it? Hate it? Want to wear it as a fancy hat? Let me know! Your interest keeps me going!

_Three years earlier…_

The clouds, dark and thick, looked heavy with rain, but, of course, it would not rain. It hadn’t rained in weeks or perhaps months. Ariadne had almost forgotten what rain even sounded like; her memory was overwhelmed with the drip-drop of blood which drowned out everything else. Shaking her head with a heavy sigh, she looked back to the street ahead of her. How many countless times had she wandered down this street and all the others like it? How many times had she fallen to some foul beast only to reawaken? Yharnam had become her own personal slice of hell, but each death gave her hope. Each death taught her something, which made her stronger, and she would conquer the riddle of this place, even if it took a hundred lifetimes.

Ariadne was not the first warrior to seek out Yharnam, nor would she likely be the last. Some came for money, some for glory, others came because they believed so much in their own goodness that they had no choice but to confront the evil that festered in the city’s bones. Ariadne came for none of these reasons. Though she had become little more than an assassin for hire herself and was no stranger to fighting for gold, no amount of gold could have drawn her to the blight that was Yharnam. No, she, like a few others, came for healing. A hunger gnawed at her very soul and whispered in the recesses of her mind, and it had grown stronger as of late. For years she’d controlled the hunger, used its strength in her favor, but her control was beginning to slip.  It was only a matter of time before the whispering became a scream, a scream that would overwhelm her.  Of course, if she resisted using the power, the screaming would subside, but, try as she might, the temptation was stronger than her will.  Thus she didn’t come to cure it, no, that would cost her the power, but she hoped the mythical blood of Yharnam could slake her thirst forever.

Pushing her thoughts to the side, she pressed on down the street. Buildings rose up on either side of her, monolithic and ominous. Many of them stood empty and alone, while in the quiet corners of others, townsfolk sheltered in fear, hoping whatever vile plague had befallen the city would spare them. They tried to pretend this was not the end of days, and perhaps it would not be if the hunters had their way. She knew this must have once been a beautiful city in its own way. She tried to imagine the sun shining, birds perched on the gargoyles of the gothic cathedral chirping merrily, and children chasing each other through the streets with sounds of laughter. Surely, Yharnam had been this way once and could be again. To see it that way again might be the only thing that could draw a veil in her mind over the terrors that now infested this place.  But deep down she little believed such a thing could happen.  Her own home of Dunwall, like Yharnam, had fallen to darkness yet again, and she’d abandoned it.  If she couldn’t save her own home, how could she hope to save this dismal place.

She did not move forward with any particular purpose. Today had been a good day, if there could be such a thing. She had cleared this area of the city for now at least, and it was safe or safe as it could be. More importantly: Rom, a creature concocted purely from nightmares and nameless evils had fallen to her sword and crossbow.  His black ichor still reeked in her nose and blobs of it stained her leathers, but he was dead. Still, she was unsettled by the blood red moon that had almost immediately appeared. Whether it was a good omen or bad she had not yet decided. A distant sound made her cock her head, causing a cascade of jet-black bangs to spill across her face, contrasting sharply with her alabaster skin and sharp blue eyes. It sounded like a choir singing some mournful dirge, but she suspected it was her imagination. No human voices sung anymore in this cursed place. Whatever it was, phantom or no, it would wait for another day.

Every bone in her body ached, and she was ready to rest, but she had decided on a short walk down this quiet street before returning to the Dream. Pushing her hair back behind her ear, she pressed on. A faint wind howled through the street when she decided to end her evening stroll. She was about to adjourn to the Dream, when she realized where she was. Though she had wandered the streets rather aimlessly, apparently her subconscious had other intentions. Just down the way was a small two-story house with a lit red lamp sitting on the sill of one of the first floor windows. She knew the house well, having stopped there many times. The inhabitants, a young couple who of course she had never laid actual eyes on as they’d only spoken through the boarded and barred window, had been the kindest and most appreciative people she’d yet encountered in Yharnam. As her journey deeper into the city had taken her further and further from this spot the visits had become less frequent, so she was happy to close out an already promising day by ending up at the house of the only two people in the city she might be able to call friends – Michael and Claire. She approached the window and rapped upon it three times without hesitation.

“It’s Ariadne,” she called out.

She waited a few moments, as sometimes it took them time to reach the window, but no response came. She tapped once again on the widow, slightly louder. Being greeted only with silence, her spirits fell. It was possible, she told her herself, that they were asleep. It would not be the first time she’d received no response, but it was infrequent. They usually rushed to the window eagerly, desperate to hear news of what was going on in the city and to know that she was still alive. After waiting a few moments, she let out a dejected sigh and turned her back on the house.

As she stepped away there was a large creaking behind her. In a blink, her right hand went to the small crossbow holstered at her right hip and a bladeless sword handle held in a special sheathe on her left forearm dropped into her hand and with a flourishing movement a silver blade extended from it even as she spun on her heel ready to eviscerate whatever stood in her path. A voluptuous young woman in a simple emerald green dress stood in the now open doorway. Long wavy red hair surrounded her round face.  Without having seen her before, Ariadne knew her to be Claire.  With a simple spin of the sword the blade retracted, and she deftly pushed it back into its sheathe on her arm.

The gentle, sultry voice that she’d so often heard through the window fit perfectly with the beautiful creature now beckoning her inside. “Quickly,” Claire whispered, eyes darting around fearfully.

She hesitated for a moment and then went inside. Reason would caution her that this was some new trick of the city’s malevolence, but she trusted to her eyes. Nothing she had seen so far made her believe that the dark powers here could conceive of a terror with such a natural loveliness, and the hunger which urged her inside was quite convincing – indeed the scent of Claire’s honeyed blood carried quite easily on the wind.

Claire closed the door behind her, and her husband, Michael, quickly put three thick wooden planks back into place, barring the door.

“You should not have risked that,” Ariadne said, removing her tricorn and looking around the room with obvious curiosity. She stood in a small but well-appointed parlor bathed in soft candlelight. There was a couch with fluffy velvet cushions, brocade curtains, a wall filled with books, glasses of wine on the coffee table, and other comforts that seemed as from another life. The air was filled with the scent of lavender, and a fire burned in the stone hearth, above which hung a portrait a stern old man. After surveying it all, she looked to Michael and Claire, who were smiling. Michael, tall and strong, with thick black hair and a clean-shaven face was handsome as his wife was beautiful. “But I’m glad you did.”

Claire approached her slowly. “Please, let me take your coat, and let’s get those boots off.” She grabbed the sleeve of Ariadne’s long brown leather coat and helped her remove it. She turned to Michael. “Go prepare some water for her to clean up.”

“Of course.”  Michael nodded and headed into another room.

An attractive middle-aged woman in the black and white dress of a servant entered the room and took the leather coat from Claire.

“Thank you, Sera,” she said to the servant and turned to Ariadne.  “She will see to it that your coat is clean, and once you’ve undressed she’ll tend to the rest of your clothes.”

Sera nodded her head obediently and vanished down the hall.

“For so long, we’ve wanted to invite you in, but I was afraid,” she admitted, her eyes cast down towards the floor in shame, and a soft blush marked her pale freckled cheeks. Ariadne’s breath caught in her throat – the innocence on her face struck her with its pure sweetness. She had become too used to the nothingness that was Yharnam. Claire very nearly overwhelmed her senses, yet still, there was something about that innocence.  Something hid behind it, and Ariadne was curious to discover what it might be, though in a place like Yharnam she knew the answer might very well be one she didn’t want to uncover.

“But after all you have done for our city, it is time we return the favor,” she said, locking eyes with her. “And you are our friend.”

Ariadne smiled – fully. The words were a blessing to her, despite her apprehension. “I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

Claire reached down and clasped Ariadne’s hand – instantly causing Ariadne’s heart to race. “Come, I’ll show you where you can clean up and have some fresh clothes for the night. Then, we’ll have some wine.”

Ariadne’s mouth watered at the thought of not only wine, but of clean, soft clothes touching her skin. She followed Claire’s lead out of the room. Claire led her down the hallway, past several closed doors, to a room at the end.

“Everything is just ready,” Michael said as they entered. He gave a polite bow at the waist and left the room.

It was a small room with shelves on one wall with all assortment of perfumes, soaps, and lush towels. In the corner was something like a large cabinet with a folding door with panels of stained glass. There was a shelf with two basins of water, scrubbing brushes, and soap.

Claire motioned to the cabinet. “You can wash yourself privately in here. Help yourself to anything here that you like.” She turned to the shelves on the wall and studied them for a moment. She reached out and took a glass vial with a red liquid. She walked over and placed it on the shelf in the cabinet. “Cherry blossom,” she said as she turned back face her. “Dab just a bit around your throat after you wash. The scent will relax you.” She stepped up close to Ariadne until they were almost touching. She pressed a finger to her pale, slender neck. “Sniff.”

Ariadne leaned in slowly until her nose almost touched Claire’s skin and smelled the sweetness of the cherries on her skin. It was intoxicating. Her eyes could not help but be drawn further down, where the tightly laced bodice of Claire’s dress had pushed her creamy breasts up to a gravity defying degree.

Ariadne pulled back quickly, a blush setting on her face.

“See, knew you’d like it,” she said triumphantly and pointed to a cupboard on another wall. “In there you’ll find some fresh clothes for the night.”

“I shouldn’t stay so long as that,” Ariadne countered.

Claire smiled innocently and took both of Ariadne’s hands in hers. “But I simply insist. Now, when you’re done, join us in the parlor for some wine and cake. Our chats at the window were always so brief, and I cannot wait to hear about some of your adventures.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos if you like it - helps me write faster. Comments always welcome - praise or critique!

After Claire had left, Ariadne began to slowly undress, taking pleasure in the simple luxury of being able to remove her clothes in a such a quiet and peaceful place. She tossed her hat in the corner and took a seat on a small stool by the shelves of perfumes and soaps. She began to unlace her knee-high black leather boots, and it was a huge relief when she finally was able to pull them off and give her feet and toes a luxurious stretch, bringing out a contented moan. As she stripped off her leather vest and the simple white blouse beneath it, she actually began to hum to herself. It had been a long time since she had let herself relax so much, even in the safety of the Dream she rarely relaxed – fitful bouts of sleep were the most she could usually hope for. She continued to make a pile of her clothes in the corner, finishing off with the tightly bound black corset she wore beneath her blouse, finally freeing her breasts.

She stepped into the cabinet with the basins and noticed a full-length mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Her body was marked here and there with light scars, old battle wounds of which she was very proud as each one had taught her a lesson. Her years of fighting had left her lean and lithe but still feminine and graceful.  Moving closer to the mirror, she pressed her fingertips lightly to a scar just above her left breast and with a slight smile recalled how Aaen had always kissed her there, but that felt so long ago that she had almost completely forgotten what it felt like.  She moved closer to the mirror and opened her mouth, reaching up a finger to touch one of her elongated and pin-sharp canines. They had definitely become longer since she had entered the house, a consequence of the hunger which Michael and particularly Claire had only succeeded in exacerbating – her body wanted to taste them; the voice inside her was quite incessant about it.  She hoped they weren’t too noticeable; she’d hate for her friends to think she was like the beasts that now stalked Yharnam. Though she couldn’t deny there was an animalistic drive in her, she liked to think it was more refined and civilized. Well, she was inside now, so it was too late to worry about their possible fear, therefore she turned her attention to the basins of water.

Ten minutes later she stepped into the hallway in a simple blue silk robe that came just halfway down her thigh, the only thing she’d found in closet where Claire had indicated she’d find clothing. The robe was comfortable and luxuriant against her freshly washed skin, and the soft scent of the cherry blossoms was a sweet refreshment. As she stepped quietly down the hall, a playful giggle perked her ears. Peaking around the corner and into the parlor, she saw Michael and Claire embracing. He was kissing her slender neck.

“Michael, we don’t have time,” she half protested, running her hands up and down the thick muscles of his arms – a mark of his service in the royal guard.

“She’ll be in there a while,” he said between kisses as he reached up a hand to pull at the knot on her bodice. “And if she comes out, she can watch or join in,” he teased.

“Mmmhmm,” she mumbled.  “So, that’s why you were fine with me inviting her in?  You hoping for a chance at her?”  She laughed, a musical sound that delighted Ariadne. 

He tugged at the lacing of her bodice until it was sufficiently loosened and then reached up to push the dress off her shoulders. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Then his hands slid from her face to her shoulders, and he pressed down on her shoulders gently but firmly.

She smiled and arched an eyebrow. “As you wish then,” she said as she dropped down to her knees.

Ariadne watched from the shadowed hall expectantly, that whisper growing louder inside her. Claire stared up at Michael as she pulled the bodice of her gown down further until her breasts came free in a wave of milky flesh. Her breasts were quite large than the Hunter’s, and Ariadne had to wonder how she fit them into that gown. Lines of blues veins crisscrossed just beneath the surface of the skin and seemed to have an enticing luminescent glow to Ariadne’s eyes causing her to lick her lips instinctively.  Gods, she was hungry.  Michael undid his trousers. Claire’s hands went to her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he pulled his cock out. It was already quite hard, and Ariadne was surprised by its length and thickness. Claire leaned in and he traced the head across her freckled cheek and lightly against her lips. The tip of her tongue poked out for a teasing lick, earning her a soft moan from Michael. As she looked up at him with her shining brown eyes she wrapped her ruby lips around the head and began to suck gently. She swirled her tongue around it, eliciting moans of approval from her husband. 

Ariadne gasped unintentionally as the hunger welled in her stomach, and Claire’s eyes shot over the shadowed hall. She wasn’t sure if Claire could see her in the shadows, but her eyes and attention quickly returned to Michael as her mouth slid further down his cock, her tongue caressing the underside of it as she did so. Michael grabbed a handful of fiery red hair and pushed deeper making Ariadne wonder how far Claire could go. She pulled back, prompting a disappointed groan from her lover, then she grabbed his cock and ran her tongue from the base all the way to the tip and licked the head repeatedly with slow deliberate strokes of her tongue.  Then she rubbed the head of it across her cheek again, leaving a trail of precum before sliding it back into her mouth.  Bobbing her head on his cock she began to stroke it with one hand, while her free hand toyed absently with her breasts. 

Michael’s moans filled the roam, and Ariadne wondered if the servant, Sera, couldn’t hear, though she hadn’t seen her since she had departed with her coat.  He suddenly pulled from her mouth and Claire began to stroke him more rapidly, smiling up at him.

Ariadne gasped, pressing her fingers to her lips when Michael climaxed and thick strands of cum shot across the young woman’s face and into her open and apparently very eager mouth.  He continued to stroke until cum was dripping down both her cheeks and her chin and spilling down onto those beautiful tits.  Her tongue slid out, running around the edges of her lips, licking up the cum around her mouth. 

Feeling she was pushing her luck, Ariadne retreated quietly down the hallway and back to the washroom, once inside she closed the door behind her and leaned back against it.  Spreading and bending her legs slightly, she had no trouble immediately pushing two of her fingers into her cunt, biting into her lower lip.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched herself, and it had been far longer since she’d been with someone, with Aaen.  It was hard to imagine that something as wonderful as the feeling of being with someone in that way could still exist in Yharnam. 

“Gods,” she said as her other hand cupped her breast and she moaned as her fingers slid in and out of her wetness.  Her breathing grew ragged as her heart fluttered.

Another ten minutes later, Ariadne emerged from the room, this time purposefully making more noise as she headed toward the parlor, but as she entered, she saw there was no need.  The two of them were seated and having wine.  Michael was seated in a large chair, while Claire was on the loveseat by the fire.  She patted the empty space next to her and nodded to Ariadne.

“Please, join us,” she said.

The Hunter gestured to her blue silk robe.  “This was all I could find.  I feel a little underdressed.”

“I’m sorry, Sera must not have refilled the wardrobe.  I can fetch you something.”

She waved it off.  “It’s ok for now, though a little chilly,” she said as she took a seat next to Claire and was grateful to have the seat closer to the fire.

Claire poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her.

Ariadne wrapped both hands around the class and pulled it up to her nose.  She closed her eyes and inhaled.  A smile covered her face – she could smell something besides the decay of Yharnam for once and it intoxicated her senses.  She took a sip, rolling the wine around in her mouth and over her tongue, cherishing the taste.

“You seem to be enjoying that,” Michael said approvingly.

“I’m glad you like it,” Claire added.

“It is amazing,” she replied after swallowing, though this particular red liquid was not the one that could sate her.  “I can’t thank you two enough.  This is… so refreshing.  I don’t remember when I felt so relaxed.”

“I hope watching us helped,” Claire said with an impish grin and carefully arched eyebrow.

Ariadne’s cheeks went red, easy enough to see on her pale skin.  “I… um…”

Claire scooted the small distance on the loveseat closer to Ariadne and rested an arm across the back.  “Don’t be embarrassed.  After all the horror you’ve seen, which I can’t even imagine, you deserve to see something more… pure.”  She leaned in closer and inhaled.  “I smell the cherry on your skin,” she whispered and then planted a light, moist kiss on Ariadne’s neck.

Ariadne’s heart began to beat in her ears as Claire’s supple lips continued their attention on the tender skin of her throat, and then her hand went to the belt of her robe.

“If you want me to stop…,” Claire said as she begun to tug on the belt, opening the Hunter’s robe.

“No…,” Ariadne murmured, the hunger inside her was palpable, and the scent of Claire’s blood was more intoxicating than the wine.  “Please, Claire.”


	4. Chapter 4

Michael watched as Claire took the Hunter’s wine glass from her trembling hand and placed it on the coffee table.  She then clasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  Reaching her other hand up to her cheek, Claire leaned in slowly, tentatively, until the tip of her nose touched Ariadne’s. Sliding her fingers into the hunter’s soft, black hair she completed the kiss. The hunger in her belly shot its tendrils throughout her body, and she returned the kiss. Claire’s tongue darted gingerly into her mouth, and Ariadne could taste Michael on her lips. She felt Claire’s hand pulling at the loosely knotted belt on the robe until it came undone.  When the kiss broke, Claire’s face was full blush and a shy smile was on her pink lips, which Ariadne found dangerously disarming.

Sitting back slightly, Claire effortlessly undid the knot of her corset, which she had carefully retied from her earlier escapade with Michael.  Without much effort one of her breasts spilled free of the green fabric.  Claire slid her hand around to the back of Ariadne’s neck and guided her head down to her breast. She followed Claire’s guidance and eagerly wrapped her mouth around the small pink bud and sucked it into her mouth causing Claire’s eyes to close and her head to roll back.  Michael watched them closely, sipping from his wine.

The taste of her skin was more than she could resist.  Claire yelped as Ariadne’s long, needle-pointed canines pierced the soft flesh of her breast and sent two small trickles of blood flowing down over her nipple. Ariadne lapped at the nipple hungrily, cherishing each salty crimson drop. Each taste quieted the whispering in her head but created another gnawing hunger between her thighs.

Ariadne lifted her head from Claire’s breast, half-expecting to see a look of horror on the young woman’s face, but it was quite the opposite.  She was clearly fascinated and enticed by what had just happened, though deep down she knew she probably should be afraid.  Smiling seductively, Ariadne licked her blood-smeared lips and kissed Claire, pressing her tongue into the warmth of her mouth.

“My dear hunter,” Claire murmured breathlessly when they had finished their kiss, “how long since you slept in a feather bed?”

Her two young friends led her upstairs to their bedroom. As Michael busied himself lighting some candles, Ariadne stood beside the large bed, shivering, having left her robe on the loveseat. It was winter, night had fallen, and the cold from outside could only be kept at bay for so long by the single fire burning in the downstairs hearth. Claire approached her, letting her dress drop to the floor as she did, revealing her body for Ariadne’s approval.  Unlike Ariadne, she did not have the body of a warrior, but the voluptuous curves of a noble woman used to a life of luxury.  She slid an arm about her waist and pulled the fierce Hunter’s naked body against her own. They snuggled against each other, relishing the heat of their skin touching. Sliding a hand to her face, Claire pulled her towards her into a sweet kiss, and ran her fingers through her hair.  Breaking the kiss, Ariadne took Claire’s hand and led her onto the bed.

It was bliss, or something even beyond that. The blankets were soft and warm, and the mattress beneath enveloped Ariadne as she laid back on it, reclining on a pile of pillows stacked against the headboard. Then Claire appeared above her and leaned in to kiss Ariadne, who eagerly welcomed her with open lips. Their tongues twirled around each other and Claire’s breasts rubbed against hers. Michael had moved to the edge of the bed, simply watching them for the moment.

Pulling her head back, Claire reached and lightly traced her fingertip around Ariadne’s lips, surprised by their softness. “Show me,” she said with wonder-filled eyes.

Ariadne grinned, revealing her pair of sharp ivory fangs.

Curiously, she ran her fingertip along the length of one of them. “What are you?” she asked.

Ariadne merely smirked.

Smiling, she then pressed her finger against the tip and was surprised by how little pressure it took to pierce her skin and bring out a small drop of blood. Ariadne responded by closing her mouth around her finger and sucking on it as she locked eyes with Claire. “Still hungry?” she purred. She withdrew her finger and slid further up Ariadne’s body, grabbing the headboard for support she lowered her torso and offered her breast, still producing two small streams of blood. The sight of those crimson streams, stark against her lily-white skin alone caused the wetness to well between her thighs.

Ariadne’s mouth wrapped around her breast and sucked at it with no small amount of enthusiasm, making Claire hiss through her clenched teeth. She drunk, greedily and reached around and dug her nails into Claire’s buttocks, eliciting an excited moan.  Michael had removed his clothes and slowly stroked his cock as he watched the two of them.  The sound of Ariadne sucking on her breast was audible in the small room and only increased Michael’s arousal.

When she had drunk her fill, she released Claire’s breast.

Claire kissed her again, sucking her blood from the Hunter’s agile tongue.  Ending the kiss, she brushed Ariadne’s black hair aside and moved to kissing her neck and then traced the tip of her tongue along her collarbone. Then her lips wrapped tenderly around one of her nipples, and she sucked it between her teeth, nipping at it lightly. Ariadne arched her back, feeling the warm tingling that radiated out from the focus of Claire’s mouth. Claire planted kisses around her breasts as she slid further down, trailing kisses along her stomach, making Ariadne ache with growing anticipation.

“Claire will take good care of you,” he said with a roguish smile.

Ariadne blushed then gasped when she felt Claire’s nose nuzzle into the small patch of black hair between her thighs.

Claire kissed each of Ariadne’s thighs up and down and then returned to her cunt, which was already glistening. She ran her tongue along the length of her slit, just enough pressure to barely part her lips, causing Ariadne’s hips to buck up slightly, trying to force her tongue further into her wet warmth.

Michael climbed up on the end of the bed behind his wife.  Her butt wiggled in the air as she avidly licked Ariadne.  He placed one hand on her hip to steady her, then with his other hand guided his cock to her, he quickly discovered, very wet cunt.  With a groan he pushed inside her, drawing a squeal of pleasure from her.

Ariadne’s hands had gone to her breasts, squeezing and rubbing her nipples, as Claire’s tongue worked inside her.  Grabbing Claire’s hips, Michael began to slowly pull in and out, savoring the feeling of Claire around his cock.  She pushed her ass back against him whenever he pushed inside her, trying to force his long cock as deep as it would go.  Claire’s tongue finally found its way to her clit and began applying long, lavish licks against it, though she found it increasingly hard to concentrate as Michael filled her.  He began to push quicker and deeper, groaning as he buried his entire length inside her velvet cunt.

Between her thighs, Claire continued her ministrations, her face soaked with Ariadne’s wetness and her tongue swirling around her clit. She then pressed two fingers against her entrance and instantly felt Ariadne’s muscles tighten expectantly. She did not leave her in suspense long, pushing her two slender fingers into her smooth silky cunt as deep as she could go.  Ariadne cried out.

Turned on by the sound, Michael began to thrust faster, his fingers digging into his wife’s tender flesh.

“By the gods,” he groaned, his voice heavy with lust and his body shaking as Claire flexed her muscles, tightening around his cock.  Then he slammed inside her, thrusting rapidly as he came.  His wife continued licking her new lover as he filled her cunt until he was completely spent.  Finally, he withdrew and collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily.

Now free to focus on her own satisfaction, Ariadne grabbed two handfuls of Claire’s hair, pushing her face down hard against her cunt. Claire obliged her by pushing a third finger into her tight hole.

“Oh fuck, Claire,” Ariadne cried out, closing her eyes tightly.  Claire’s fingers moved inside her with a smooth and rapid rhythm, and it felt wonderful, but a part of her couldn’t deny that she didn’t know how to touch her, not like Aaen did.  Then her thoughts were lost as every muscle in her body tensed up like a tightly wound spring, just waiting for that slight push to release the pent-up energy. Claire’s fingers thrust deep and quick into her as her tongue gave its complete attention to her aching clit.

She felt Ariadne’s muscles contract and tighten around her fingers and then came that delicious burst of release. Ariadne’s grip on Claire’s hair was knuckle-white and her hips bucked against the fingers buried inside her. Her eyes rolled back and her lungs suddenly released a great gasp as pleasure rolled through her in undulating waves.


	5. Chapter 5

Hours later, Ariadne lay alone in near total darkness, only a small bit of bluish moonlight which crept through the boards covering the window offered any light. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying there, staring at the ceiling, just appreciating the warmth and softness of the guest bed they provided her in a room down the hall from theirs. Outside the safety of the thick blankets, it was decidedly cold, but beneath them it was perfect. She didn’t want to waste such comfort on sleep, preferring to stay awake as long as possible, just enjoying it.  She had long ago forgotten what luxury could feel like – now all she could remember was blood, rain, and the cracking of bones. Michael and Claire had offered her a spot in their bed, but she enjoyed her privacy and felt that sleeping in their bed was an intimacy she wasn’t comfortable with.  She was used to sleeping alone; she’d been doing it for two years now.

There was a soft creaking as the door to her room slowly opened and Claire slipped quickly into the room, shutting the door behind her. She tiptoed to the bed.

“You can stop sneaking,” Ariadne said with a sigh, rolling up onto her elbow to look at Claire. “I am awake, and I can hear a rat gnawing a bone two houses down, so to think you could sneak up on me is adorable.”

"Oh,” Claire said sheepishly. “Am I bothering you?”

Ariadne could tell she was blushing, and she did prefer to be alone at the moment, but nevertheless, she lifted up the edge of the blanket as an invitation. Claire dropped her robe to the floor, revealing herself to be completely naked before climbing into the bed.

“Brrrr,” she said as she shivered and then snuggled up against Ariadne. She rested her head on her shoulder and draped an arm across her stomach.

“Michael won’t miss you?” Ariadne asked.

“He’s fast asleep,” she replied.

“Besides, he gets to share a bed with me every night.”

“Lucky,” she said playfully.

Claire leaned up and kissed her cheek. “You are too sweet for a hunter.”

Ariadne lightly traced her fingers up and down Claire’s spine, enjoying the softness of their naked bodies against each other.

“Do you think you’ll stay?” Claire asked, uncertainty in her voice. “After it’s over?”

The question caught Ariadne by surprise. She’d not really considered a future beyond the next day. Barely even remembering how long she’d been in Yharnam, it was hard to picture a future outside of it. “I’m not sure. It’s a wide world out there, and I’ve not seen as much of it as I’d like. I didn’t come here to fight the beasts but for my own sake. Though now that I’ve grown attached to a few of its people,” she gave Claire a slight squeeze, “I can’t very well leave it in this state. There must be some sort of absolution from this nightmare.” 

“I grew up in Yharnam, and I never thought of leaving,” she said. She raised a hand up to gently stroke Ariadne’s face with her fingertips. “I could think of it now. Even if it’s just a fantasy. Before all of this… it was a fine enough place to live, but now…”

“Your husband would miss you I think.”

“Surely, he would come with,” she said. “The two of us, with you showing us the wonders that lie beyond our dark mountains. The three of us seem to go well together.

“Yharnam has its own unique beauties despite all of this,” Ariadne began, “but the world beyond here is something else entirely. My city…”

“What’s it called?” Claire interrupted, excitement in her voice.

“Dunwall,” Ariadne replied, a slight break in her voice. “A once great city of spiraling towers and exotic whale markets.  It was in service to my city that I first learned of my talents. My mother and grandfather taught me to fight, but that is a long story.”

“No, it’s alright,” Claire assured her. “Please, go on.”

Ariadne bit her lip and shook her head.  She had not given home much thought recently and preferred to keep it that way.  “Another time maybe.  It was not a happy parting with my home or my mother.”

 “Will you go back there?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. My adventures… they didn’t go the way I expected. I didn’t go out and become a great warrior defending the weak and helpless. My mother would be so disappointed in me.  I’m not sure I could bear going home.”

“If she loves you, as I’m sure she does, I’m sure she would understand.  You think you’ve disappointed her but think of what you’ve done here. Who knows if Michael or I would still be alive if you weren’t watching over us?”

“But I came here for selfish reasons; not to help.”

“Yet you did help,” Claire said with finality.

“I would like to talk about something else,” Ariadne replied, a slight coldness to her tone.

“Could you teach me?” Claire said, swiftly changing the subject.

“What?”

“To fight like you,” she asked. Ariadne grew an uncontrollably wide grin, fully revealing her fangs. “I’d be happy to try, but you don’t want to fight the things I fight.  Rom.”  She shut her eyes tight and shook her head trying to shake the image.  “He isn’t something I’ll soon forget.  I’ve lost more in my life due to fighting than I’ve gained.”

“I’d fight them if I was with you,” she countered. 

Ariadne rolled her eyes but didn’t respond.

Claire rolled up on top of Ariadne and stared into her green eyes. She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you here? Really, Ariadne?”

She sighed and turned her eyes away to stare absently at the slivers of moonlight. “You’ve seen firsthand my thirst for blood. It’s getting worse, not better. In my travels I always heard stories about Yharnam… the blood… the Healing Church. I thought I might find an answer here. The hunger makes me stronger, but the stronger it gets the more clouded my mind becomes. If it persists, I have little doubt I’ll end up like the crazed savages that wander the streets just outside your windows.”

“Maybe you should not fight it alone,” she suggested.

Ariadne looked up at her, her lips half-open as if to speak, but no words came out.   

“I know someone who might be able to help you,” she said with obvious trepidation.

Her eyes narrowed.  “Who?”

“There is a place outside the city,” she said, her voice going suddenly quiet.  “It is called Cainhurst.”

Ariadne nodded.  “Yes, I’ve heard of it.  I thought it was a legend.”

“No, it is real.  There is someone there who might be able to help you.  The nobles of Cainhurst learned to use the healing blood for their own purpose.  Some say they became vampires.”

Ariadne sat up in bed suddenly.  “Vampires.  They drink the blood because they need it?”

Claire nodded.  “I don’t know if their Queen can help you or not.”

She dismissed her doubts with a shrug.  “Doesn’t matter.  This is the best lead I’ve had in a long time.  This city has taken too fucking much from me, and it’s time for it to offer something in return.”

Then eager to change the subject herself, Claire reached down and gently drug her nails up the length of Ariadne’s inner thigh. “Now, speaking of hunger,” she whispered, her words falling like honey from her lips, “I don’t mean to complain, but earlier… it seems that you were quite satisfied and Michael unquestionably was. But of the three of us, one of us was left…,” her finger tips brushed lightly across her mound, “a little wanting.”

Ariadne smiled uneasily.  A dozen questions now burned in her mind, and at the moment were far more pressing to her, but she didn’t want to displease Claire, who could hopefully provide those answers. “That is a serious oversight on my part,” she said, with forced charm.  “As a guest in your home, I should be more appreciative of your hospitality.” She deftly flipped Claire onto her back with surprising speed and strength and was instantly on top of her. “Please, let me make amends.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 has been completely rewritten. The original chapter 6 will still happen, but I've pushed it back a couple of chapters. It will probably come back as chapter 8 or 9. This chapter is very different than the ones that came before, hope you enjoy. If you don't, please let me know!

It had been a week since she had reluctantly left Claire and Michael’s home, and she had already nearly forgotten what real warmth and particularly comfort felt like.  But she had not forgotten the taste of Claire’s skin or her blood.  And Claire’s blood, it was strong, and it made her strong.  She was faster, her vision clearer, and a better hunter with Claire’s elixir in her veins.  This was why she hesitated to go back, the hunger had been exacerbated by Claire, not sated.  Could she resist if she went back?  Or would she suck the beautiful young woman dry? 

“Seek out Cainhurst,” Claire had told her as she had prepared to depart that morning a week earlier.

But that was easier said than done.

“This is fucking pointless,” Ariadne groaned as she wandered through Hemwick Charnel Lane.  For that entire week she had searched, and she was no closer to getting to the mysterious place.  An answer had so far not materialized, and she had searched.  She’d gone to the cathedral to talk to survivors, shouted at boarded up windows until her throat was sore, consulted abandoned libraries and with no result.

Delivering a sharp kick to a tombstone she passed by, and sending an equally sharp pain into her foot, she cursed and turned her back on the graves.  This wasn’t working, and her anger was only growing.  It wasn’t just the lack of finding Cainhurst, but the hunger was beginning to hurt.  In her week of hunting she had not returned to Claire and Michael’s, which meant she hadn’t fed.  The comforts of their home were certainly sorely missed, but more than that, she was starving, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay away.  Before Claire and Michael she’d gone long periods of time without feeding, or relied on the stray bird here and there, or very rarely a survivor, but after tasting Claire, she wasn’t sure those would suffice. 

Clenching her fists at her side, she drew in a deep breath and tried to calm herself.  If she was to return to Claire and Michael, she couldn’t do it now; she was far too worked up.  Between her anger and the hunger, she was about to split in two and she could think of only one thing that could calm her at the moment.  Corvo’s blade slide from its sheathe down into her hand as she descended a series of ancient stone steps that led deeper into the Charnel Lane.  This place she hated almost more than any other.  At least other parts of Yharnam had a certain beauty in the ominous gothic architecture, but Charnel Lane was a nightmare.  A sickly fog covered the twisted and warped grounds, sending the many tombstones in the area jutting in all directions, while dead black trees completed the scene.  Despite this, a smile creased her lips as three hags bearing pitchforks approached her. 

In a flash of movement she drew her crossbow and sent a steel bolt flying straight through the eye of the nearest hag, drawing out a howling screech from her chapped and bleeding lips.  With a thud she collapsed to the ground as the other two advanced, their anger incensed further.  As one of the hags lunged, Ariadne rushed forward and dropped to her knees, tossing her head back and sliding just inches beneath the rusty implement.  Even as she leapt back to her feet she sliced back to her right, bringing the tip of the blade cleanly across the hag’s right side and cutting her open, spilling her blood onto the dirt and stones. 

Ariadne tried not to yawn as she nearly pirouetted about to face the remaining hag, the injured one lying on the ground trying to stem the loss of blood.  This blood though did not entice her hunger, rather she could smell its foulness and the thought of drinking it nearly choked her.  Nor did the fight do much to calm her, these creatures, which she’d killed so many of, presented no threat or challenge – they were nothing.  With a mirthless chuckle she spun her blade in her hand so that it retracted into the hilt and pushed it back up into its sheathe.  The hag approached and lunged.  Dodging at the last possible moment, she then turned and grabbed the handle of the pitchfork, yanking it effortlessly from the hag’s gnarled hands.  Before the hag even realized it was weaponless Ariadne flipped the weapon around and thrust the tines deep into the old woman’s chest with such force that she was thrown to the ground, wheezing as blood filled her lungs.  The Hunter’s shoulders slumped with disappointment.

“I’m weakened, nearly starving and still… you’re nothing.  I’d hoped for more,” she said simply as she walked past the two dying hags.  “Where in this damn city can a hunter still find a challenge?”

Then she heard it, as if the city had responded to her request:  the sound of small bells ringing.  Turning, she was more than a little surprised to see a coach only feet away pulled by two ghostly black stallions, appearing as if from the mist.  The door to the carriage stood open and it seemed to call to her.  Approaching the carriage, she could see it was empty and a fierce cold emanated from within, but she only hesitated a moment before climbing inside.  The door slammed shut behind her, and the carriage charged off into the night.

Ariadne opened her eyes to the cold.  Raising her head from where it had been resting on her knees as  she slept, she glanced around it.  On the opposite seat sat her mother, Emily, young and beautiful as Ariadne remembered her from her childhood.

Her heart beat hard in her chest, and her lips trembled.  “Mother?” 

“Hello, Ari,” she replied, with a soft smile.

“How… are you here?” she asked.

Leaning forward in her seat, she clasped her hands in front of her, studying Ariadne’s eyes.  “You know how.  There is only one way I can be here.”

For the first time in a long time, tears formed in her eyes, and they burned.  “It’s my fault, Mother.”

Emily shook her head.  “I’m glad you left.  Dunwall… would’ve killed you.  Just as it killed your father, then Corvo, then… me.  But, like Yharnam, it is not beyond saving.  You’ll go back someday, but not now.  I… want to help you.  So does he.”

“He,” Ariadne spat the word.  “All he has done is destroy us.”

“He saved your life,” she countered.  “I won’t argue that he didn’t have his own reasons, but he did.  I asked him to save you.”

“It wasn’t one worth saving,” she replied bleakly.  She blinked away a few tears.  “All this life has done is take.  Every last goddamn thing, and now… it’s taken even you.  I’m not who I was when I left Dunwall – I’m worse.  You don’t know me.”

“You’re my daughter.  That’s all I need to know.  And you will be better.  Maybe you can’t see it yet,” she said.

“You need to be careful in Cainhurst,” she advised.  “The right answers won’t be found there.  If you follow the lure of Cainhurst, it will lead to a place you can’t return from.” 

She shrugged and laughed.  “I have nowhere else to go.”

“No, you are right to go there.  But, they are not to be trusted, and there is much misery still in wait for you on this journey,” she assured her.  Leaning forward, she cupped her daughter’s face and planted a kiss on her forehead.  “And you are not alone.”

Ariadne was jolted awake as the carriage came to a stop.  She couldn’t recall having been tired when she entered the carriage and wondered how long she had been out.  The dream, surely that’s what it was, filled her mind like a fog.  Drawing in a deep breath, she steadied herself, and looked through the window, she saw that it was snowing outside the carriage.  It was a light snow, but it was snowing nonetheless.  Stepping from the carriage, she stared at the long stone stairs that led up to a great wall.  Steeling herself, she pressed ahead.

“I won’t trust them,” she promised herself with each step that drew her nearer to the next step of her long odyssey.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne enters Cainhurst but doesn't make it far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was posted previously as chapter 5. Go back and read chapter 6 (which is completely new) before reading this one.

The light of the lantern nearby glowed but gave very little warmth as she passed by it.  In her time in Yharnam, Ariadne had of course heard of Cainhurst and the legends behind it.  She had eagerly sought any information on the cursed castle, but all she had found were scraps and half-truths.  But somehow she had found it.  And she hoped here answers for her affliction could be found, purchased, or stolen. 

She stared up at the large foreboding castle ahead of her – Cainhurst.  Claire had made the suggestion with trepidation, but she hoped she might find a cure for her hunger or at least guidance from Annalise, Queen of the Vilebloods.  The castle was a beautiful, yet terrible thing:  a gothic castle cloaked in eternal twilight and sitting at the heart of an endless winter.  Icicles like skeletal fingers hung from the ledges and edifices, while blood-sucking beasts roamed the barren grounds, but, thankfully, they seemed to pay Ariadne no mind as she neared the entrance, perhaps they sensed in her a kindred spirit.   

As she passed through the towering ornate wooden doors into the grand foyer, she heard first the dirge.  It was the mournful wail of the women who had been slaughtered here, or so Claire had told her.  Entering the foyer itself, she was indeed taken aback by its opulence and how grand it still was.  The soft glow of hundreds of candles reflecting off the black marble floors gave an eerie yet peaceful luminescence to the room.  A fine, if tattered, red carpet lead to the main staircase, which itself was flanked by two alabaster statues.  But the beauty of it was nothing compared to the wail of the ghostly apparitions that now took notice of her.  Three women, glowing with a bluish effervescence, drew nearer to hear, a haunting keening pouring from their mouths like honey.  They wore ball gowns of opulent ornateness and design, and though they appeared as translucent spirits, their beauty from life carried over into a statuesque exquisiteness in afterlife. 

Ariadne stood there as they approached her, though she readied herself.  One of them drew nearer and ceased her song.

“You are different,” she whispered, in a voice both melodic and empty.  Tentatively she reached a hand towards Ariadne’s face. 

Ariadne did not cower as the woman’s fingertips, which to her felt as solid as flesh and blood, brushed her cheek.  The touch ignited her skin with both hot and cold simultaneously, and she could see the surprise in the spirit’s face.

“You can feel us,” she said, an ache of hunger in her voice – the Hunter had experienced it enough herself to easily recognize it in others.  “How?”

“I walk the line between this life and the next closer than most others,” she replied as the woman caressed her cheek with wonder. 

The other two, who had also ceased their singing, stood back, watching them with clear anticipation on their faces.

“You are here for Annalise?  Our queen?” she asked.

Ariadne nodded.  “Who are you?”

“Vivienne,” she replied and moved her face close to Ariadne’s.  “Why do you seek our Queen?”

“I need her help,” she replied.  Her body trembled involuntarily from the harsh cold that came from Vivienne’s mouth when she spoke:  like a cold winter wind coming off the mountains.  “Like her, I have a thirst for blood that threatens to overpower me.”

She laughed.  “Hmm, we all have our own appetites that drive us don’t we?” she asked.  “Murmur and moan all you want about your ‘thirst.’  I assure you that it has no comparison to what my sisters and I feel.  This endless death, devoid of… everything.

“It torments us,” one of the spirits cried. 

 “If you will see her, we can show you the way.  If you would but first, give us one last taste of life.  We’ve suffered here for so long with nothing but our screams.”

When the spirit kissed her, Ariadne did not resist.  Her lips were soft and felt as real to her as Claire’s.  On the surface her lips were cold as the fresh-fallen snow outside, but as the kiss deepened, there was a hidden warmth in them that surprised the Hunter.  Ariadne’s eyes closed as Vivienne’s tongue pushed between her lips and into the warmth of her mouth.  A moan escaped her – it was one of both pleasure and pain that she could not describe.  Her time with Claire had been amazing and exhilarating, but she couldn’t deny there was something altogether different in Vivienne’s kiss – beyond the physical sensation there was also a need unlike even Ariadne felt when her hunger was at its strongest.  She did not open her eyes when she felt the hands of the other two pulling at the buckles and knots of her clothes.  Suddenly she forgot the coldness of the castle as she sucked eagerly on the tongue that was now nearly hot enough to burn her mouth, and she wanted more.  Her mind screamed in frustration and in futility – the castle had presented its first temptation, and she’d given into it without a second thought.

Then Vivienne placed a hand on her chest, sending pangs of cold into her heart, and pushed her back.  She smiled sweetly as the other two continued to undress the Hunter until she stood between the three ghosts completely naked.  Ariadne marveled as Vivienne’s dressed melted away like a mist caught in the sun, revealing the perfection of her naked statuesque body.  The luminescence of her skin was almost mesmerizing.

“Ona and Marie,” Vivienne said, gesturing to the two others, who were now also naked, “and I, will do what we can to help you, but first, we must remember what the touch of living creature is like.”

Ona and Marie gently lowered Ariadne on her back onto the soft red rug.  Vivienne slipped down on all fours and begin to slowly move towards her prey, a seductive smile on her face.

Ona and Marie each had two of Ariadne’s fingers in their mouths, sucking and licking them eagerly as they delighted in the taste of life – something they had not known in ages.  She watched as Vivienne moved closer and could feel the wetness between her thighs.  Vivienne trailed her nails up the length of her leg until her face was just inches from the Hunter’s cunt.

Vivienne inhaled deeply and licked her blue lips.  “I can smell your desire, Hunter.” 

Ariadne had to grit her teeth to avoid crying out when the spirit’s tongue pressed inside her. 

Vivienne’s long lustrous hair, with its bluish glow was splayed across Ariadne’s thighs, her face pressed into her glistening mound.  Even the touch of the soft hair on her skin sent slivers of hot and cold shooting through her.  And with the other two slowly kissing their way up her arms to her shoulders, all the sensations were nearly overwhelming.  The pain of their touch was intense, but the pleasure of it was even more so. 

Ona and Marie were now pressed closed against her, their breasts rubbing against her as they sucked eagerly at the tender skin of her throat, relishing in the warmth they found there.  Ona placed a hand on the hunter’s face and turned her head towards her.  Ona let our a piercing moan when Ariadne’s lips wrapped around her breast and her tongue pressed lightly against her nipple.

“I had forgotten what it feels like,” Ona purred as her tit was sucked by their new plaything, stroking Ariadne’s hair as the warmth her mouth covered

“She has so much warmth to give,” Marie replied and then trailed the tip of her tongue along Ariadne’s throat.

Vivienne paid no attention to them, completely focused on the taste of Ariadne’s cunt that filled her mouth and coated her tongue.  This woman, whatever she was, gave her a connection back to the world of the living, and she resolved that she was not going to let it go easily and then pressed her tongue deeper into Ariadne.

Ariadne’s back arched, and she groaned around the large breast in her mouth.  Vivienne’s tongue was like ice and fire inside of her, and for the moment at least, she would do anything that Vivienne asked of her.  She couldn’t keep her mouth on Ona, and tears began to stream down her cheeks as she came, her vagina tightening around the spirit’s impossibly long tongue.  The pain had become almost unbearable during the orgasm, but the pleasure was beyond anything she had yet experienced, and she rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing her cunt forcefully against Vivienne’s face as she continued to tongue fuck her.

When Vivienne lifted her head, she smiled at Ariadne and licked her lips.  “You are something divine.”

“What did you do to me?” she asked breathlessly, her face pale.

“I can do it many more times,” Vivienne replied.

Marie moved as swiftly flowing water to Vivienne.  “A taste.”

Vivienne smiled and nodded as she leaned closer to her.  “Of course, little sister.”

Marie wrapped her arms around Vivienne’s neck, cradling the back of her head in her hands.  Then she leaned in and slowly licked Vivienne’s lips and around her mouth, yearning for the nectar that Ariadne’s cunt had left on her skin.

Once she’d stolen every bit of taste there was to have, she’d sighed with disappointment and turned to look at the Hunter.  “Shall we help her, Vivienne?”

 “You must bring us something.  A gift for me and my sisters.”

“Yes, a gift,” Ona moaned as she bit the Hunter’s earlobe playfully.

“What gift?”  Ariadne asked curiously.

Vivienne leaned back down and kissed her way up Ariadne’s stomach and then around her breasts, purposefully staying away from her nipples.  “It has been ages since we’ve felt so alive.  That is not something we can easily give up.  If you’re to leave us, then you must leave something in your place.  Someone.  A pet for us.”

“Our pet’s name is Linea,” Marie whispered, taking the Hunter’s other earlobe into her mouth.

Vivienne nodded and blew a soft cold breath across Ariadne’s nipple.  “Bring us Linea and we will keep her safe here as ours.  Bring her, and we’ll take you safely to our Queen.”

“I don’t know a Linea…,” she replied, then gritted her teeth against the pleasure as the tips of their tongues traced along her ears.

“You will.  We have seen it,” Vivienne said simply and wrapped her icy lips around her around breast.

“Yes, we see things.  This gift we can use to help you as well.  Bring her to us, and we can share much with you,” Ona said suggestively, nibbling at her ear, her cold breath teasing the hunter’s skin.

“I can’t promise that,” she said breathlessly. 

“Then we will consume you in her place,” Vivienne replied and drew her tongue lightly across Ariadne’s nipple.  When her mouth wrapped around her breast, she began to suck.

Ariadne suddenly felt in a void in her stomach as her strength, already weakened as she hadn’t fed recently enough, began to wane. 

“Yes, you can stay here with us forever,” Ona moaned.  “You can be ours, Ariadne.”

“Stop,” she cried out as the emptiness began to spread through her body, stealing away every drop of warmth through Vivienne’s ravenous mouth.  Tears ran down her cheeks.  “I’ll bring her.  I will.”

Vivienne released her breast and kissed her cheek.  “I knew we could count on you, beloved Hunter.  Bring her to us, and you’ll get all you need and more.”


End file.
